Garden sheds and Spanish Steps

Roald Dahl famously wrote from his garden shed. John Keats based himself in the heart of the Eternal City, at the foot of the Spanish Steps.

photography of lighted bridge

Whether it is a blogger, scriptwriter, poet or novelist, each has their particular ‘Creative Space’ where they produce their masterpieces.

So, what is that elusive, stimulating place and how do you find yours?

The answer depends on where you are most relaxed and least distracted. For inspiration to flow unabated, the mind must be calm and receptive.

body of water between green leaf trees

For some, busy coffee shops and book stores provide the perfect ambience to spark their imagination. Others prefer the tranquillity only nature can bestow, and sit under a tree, by a bubbling brook or, in a park in the middle of the city.

Truth is, you don’t need to go anywhere to find your writing nirvana. Curling up on the sofa with a notepad and pen can be just as rewarding from a creative perspective.

With some trial and error, you too will make your own creative space.


Magic of photography

It never ceases to amaze me, how some individuals can point a camera at anything, be it scrap metal or rotting heaps of compost, and make the images alluring, evocative. Yet, the innate beauty of those mundane scenes eludes the untrained eye, though we encounter them daily, and fail to grace them with a second glance.

Somehow, photographers manage to glean the shining soul of what mere mortals believe to be spent or dead. It’s a wonderful gift, to be able to bring to life that which has been doomed.


I don’t often burst into song, but watching Sponge Bob reminded me of my diving trip to the Florida Keys. Here’s a little memory of bubbles and prowling sharks, in verse.

Now’s the time
Take a plunge
Even though you don’t know
Who awaits deep below

A shallow trough, or
A rampant flow
Either way
Pure Adrenaline for sure

Deep, breaths of brilliance
Fill my lungs to the brim
This Cerulean blue mesmerises
Like some haunting dream

Move with the flow
Don’t stop, don’t you dare slow
Allow that drag to pull you low
The reef beckons, beauty aglow

Feel, be free, fly high
From one depth to another
Bubbling globes rush higher

I sink, the deep folds its arms
True abundance now abounds
Slashed is the blue
With unearthly hue

Spot it, here, then there
Wondrous sight, like mermaid’s snare
So much to take in
Titillating its flare

Then, there’s that fear familiar
The reef suddenly sinister
Hushed, unnaturally still
I know it draws nearer

I don’t see it yet
But I know it will appear
Do I scram?
The boat must be at least a mile clear!

Or, I dive deeper
Squash that old fear
It’s now or never
I can’t let it hold me back, forever